


For the Sake of Us

by SongstressTinyTeacup



Category: A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder - Lutvak/Freedman
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongstressTinyTeacup/pseuds/SongstressTinyTeacup
Summary: Sibella Hallward is a freelance makeup artist and stylist. Phoebe Navarro is an up-and-coming actress, her husband Monty Navarro a prominent firm owner. When Sibella comes to work for Phoebe, sparks fly, but Sibella knows that Phoebe is a very married woman, with a very attractive husband. Will Sibella be able to deny her heart, and her boyfriend, or will she end up with a broken heart and no job?





	1. Enter the Makeup Artist.

Birds fluttered through the trees as a tall, slender blonde made her way through the streets of New York City, rolling a large case behind her and staring at the GPS on her phone.

Stopping at the entry of a building, the blonde looked up and smiled, crossing her fingers as she pocketed her phone and made her way inside.

The lobby was expensively decorated, a chandelier that looked far more expensive than the entire building she lived in hung from the ceiling, and just behind the front desk was a large water feature embedded in the wall.

And those were just a few of the lavish decorations, large paintings that certainly looked pricey adorned the walls, and a white grand piano was nestled in the corner.

“No solicitors, get out before I call the police.” A harsh male voice snapped the blonde out of her stunned state.

She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin ever so slightly as she strolled to the front desk with her case.

“I’m not a solicitor, but I do believe I’m expected by someone who lives here.” The blonde challenged, examining her baby pink nails, glancing up after a moment.

The doorman scoffed.

“Expected by whom?”

“Phoebe Navarro.” The blonde replied with a smirk, tapping the fingers on her opposite hand against her skirt, unamused with the doorman’s snobby attitude.

The man’s eyes widened, stuttering out an apology and asking for her name.

“Sibella Hallward.” She replied, smiling slightly.

The man pressed a button, stating that she had arrived, then removed his finger from the button and waited with baited breath.

“Of course! Do send her up!” A voice came through, and the doorman made sure she got into the elevator and headed to the correct floor in record time, far more polite than he had been when he first spoke to her.

 

As the elevator rose, Sibella took the time to reflect on the voice she had heard.

She failed to see how that could be the voice of Phoebe Navarro, it sounded childlike over the intercom, bright, and cheerful.

As if this woman had never experienced a stressful day in her life.

Sibella rolled her eyes, not willing to cater to a child, despite the fact that she was a prominent up-and-coming actress, or the fact that if she didn’t get this job she’d have hell to pay for later.

Sibella stomach twisted as she thought back to her home life.

Lionel had taken to belittling her, more than usual, about her career choice. It didn’t help matters that she had yet to acquire a steady client, and had done the odd job here and there over the course of the last year.

In fact, her boyfriend had often complained about that fact that he paid for all their living expenses, stating time and time again how tired he was of having to provide while she was living in a dream world.

The blonde clenched her fists as Lionel’s words swirled around her brain.

She would prove him wrong, and Phoebe Navarro was just the client she needed to get her name out into the world of makeup artists.

Clients talked, and if her name was the one on everyone’s lips, she’d soon have more clients than Lionel ever dreamed of.

The elevator dinged, and Sibella took in a deep breath as she grabbed her rolling case and stepped into the hallway, locating the apartment number stated in her email, and knocking on the door.

“Just a moment!” the same voice from the lobby called out, startling Sibella.

How had she not realized Phoebe Navarro was English, like her?

Sibella plastered a bright smile on her face just before the door swung open, revealing her first actual glimpse of the woman she hoped would employ her.

Phoebe Navarro was a petite brunette, her forehead coming up to just reach Sibella’s shoulder, with sparkling blue eyes and alabaster skin that looked incredibly soft. A few small freckles dotted her nose, but Sibella realized if she hadn’t been looking for them, she’d never have noticed they were there at all.

“Miss Hallward, do come in! Do you mind if I call you Sibella? Miss Hallward feels awfully stiff and formal.” The brunette waved her in, practically gliding into the apartment and to the couch.

Sibella followed, leaving her rolling case in the hall by the door, not wanting to jump the gun before the call.

“Can I offer you some tea?” Phoebe inquired, perching on a purple chaise near a bay window, motioning to a coffee table adorned with a kettle, teapot, and two teacups with saucers.

Sibella nodded, smiling.

No one appreciated doing tea the proper way these days, especially in America. Lionel certainly didn’t.

As Sibella took a seat in a large, plush chair opposite Phoebe, she took the opportunity to examine the woman.

Her beauty was beyond compare, that much was certain, but Sibella was surprised to see someone who looked to breathtaking dressed in a pair of old oversized sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and an oversized hoodie.

The blonde wondered about the shape of the woman before her, nothing evident from her choice of attire.

Phoebe passed Sibella her teacup, smiling sweetly all the while.

“So, I understand you’re looking for a job as a makeup artist and stylist?” Phoebe inquired, taking a sip of her tea.

Sibella nodded, smiling brightly.

She didn’t feel as nervous as she had expected to, perhaps Phoebe Navarro radiated a calming aura with her charming personality.

“I am, I’ve always loved doing makeup, and over time I’ve come to love styling people as well. There’s something satisfying about taking something and making it more beautiful than it already is.” Sibella explained, using a small spoon to stir in some sugar.

Phoebe nodded, reaching over to a plate of pastries and placing one on the side of her saucer.

“Would you like one?”

Sibella gulped, having been caught eyeing the desserts with fervor.

“I really shouldn’t. Lionel complains if I gain even an ounce.”

If Phoebe was shocked, she made no indication, instead handing Sibella one anyway and turning to place her teacup and saucer on an end table.

“Lionel?” She inquired, crossing legs at the ankles.

“My boyfriend. In truth, I never realized good looks and some money could bore one so quickly.” Sibella sighed, pushing a blonde curl over her shoulder.

Phoebe smiled, rising, and bid Sibella to come with her.

The brunette then proceeded to take Sibella through a small hallway and into a room, where she sat on a neatly made bed, and looked at Sibella expectantly.

Sibella merely looked at Phoebe, and raised an eyebrow to show her confusion.

Phoebe began to laugh, a sweet, bright laugh that Sibella longed to join in on.

“You want to be a makeup artist and a stylist, very well. I’m meeting my husband for dinner tonight at some high-end restaurant uptown, and I really don’t want to spend the night ignoring people’s comments about the way I dress myself. You have free reign over my closet, so long as I’m dressed appropriately, and I’ll give you a weekly budget of three hundred dollars to get anything new you might need. Of course, for a formal event you’ll have more money as those things are a bit more expensive to prepare for. I’ll speak to Monty and have numbers for you later.” Phoebe explained, watching with a smile as Sibella came to realize what she meant.

“Thank you, Mrs. Navarro. I promise I won’t let you down.” She shook Phoebe’s hand earnestly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Phoebe, please. Now, in the closet, toward the front there’s an armoire labeled by what’s in each drawer, shoes are in the back, everything should be organized by style, and color. I’m curious to see what you come up with.” Phoebe laughed, reclining back onto her forearms.

Sibella opened the closet doors eagerly, not at all prepared to see the gorgeous, expensive blouses, skirts, dresses, and blazers, among other articles. All in various shades of purple and blue, there was some black, but only enough for press events.

Going straight to the dresses, Sibella thumbed through her options, quickly choosing a purple dress with a scalloped lace detail at the neckline and skirt, and a purple sheer panel that formed the arm holes and neck hole.

Smiling at her choice, Sibella moved to a basket full of tights, choosing a somewhat sheer pair, then moving on to shoes and jewelry, opting for a black stiletto, and a simple pearl choker, pearl earrings, and choosing a pearl hair bauble at the last minute.

The last thing Sibella did was pick the undergarments that would be needed, grabbing a dressing gown off of the hook nearest the closet doors and handing her choices to Phoebe.

Phoebe smiled, turning around and whipping off her clothing without a second thought.

Sibella tried to steady herself at the sight of her employer’s bare back.

Phoebe was truly a beauty, even in nothing…

Fortunately, soon Phoebe was dressed and sliding her dressing gown over lithe, slender arms and her outfit to protect it from the makeup.

The makeup that was still in the apartment’s entry.

Sibella stuttered out an apology, rushing to grab the case and setting to her work as soon as she opened the case and Phoebe was sat in front of her vanity, a natural glamour look was just the ticket.

Something to show Phoebe had tried, but didn’t need much to outshine every other woman in the restaurant, those poor women.

After Sibella was done, Phoebe twisted and turned in the mirror, examining every detail of her outfit and the soft, loose curls that rested against the small of her back, which made Sibella increasingly nervous.

“It’s perfect! Thank you darling, I’ll walk you out and tell our doorman to have a key made for you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Phoebe pressed a gentle kiss to Sibella’s cheek as she grabbed her wrap and purse from the blonde.

Sibella tried to push down the fluttering of her stomach and heart at the gesture, remembering two things though she wished she could forget. Lionel was at home waiting on her, and Phoebe Navarro was married.

The gesture was only meant to be friendly, so it wouldn’t do to make more of it than what it was.

But still, Sibella’s cheek tingled even as she lay in bed next to Lionel.

_“Lord, what have I gotten myself into?”_ Sibella thought before sleep overtook her.


	2. A Rough Morning.

The next morning, Sibella woke up to find the other side of the bed empty, which wasn’t unusual in the slightest.

Lionel always left before she woke, despite not needing to do so because he worked five minutes from their apartment, and Sibella woke up thirty minutes before he technically had to leave.

Sighing and running her fingers through her wild, sleep-mussed hair, Sibella slid out of bed and into the bathroom, taking care of business, then grabbing her robe and tugging it on as she padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

To the blonde’s surprise, Lionel was sitting at the table, drinking a coffee and flipping through that morning’s paper.

“Good morning, dear.” The words slipped from Sibella’s tongue with a practiced affection, more for the sake of routine rather than actual intimacy.

“You were out rather late last night, I hope you weren’t at that bakery you love so much, drowning your unemployment in pie.” Lionel huffed, flipping to the next page without ever looking up at her.

Anger flooded through Sibella’s body, for Lionel to assume she was out eating her bodyweight in pie because she was unemployed.

“And if I was? Perhaps I wanted a slice of pie.” Sibella challenged, grabbing a kettle from one of the cabinets and filling it at the sink, watching the water level rise carefully.

Lionel snorted.

“Rather against your diet, isn’t it?”

Sibella fought the urge to roll her eyes as she started the stovetop and placed the kettle on one of the burners.

“A diet the doctor says I don’t need.” She reminded him, remembering the day where her boyfriend’s obsession with her figure led to her being admitted into the local emergency room for dehydration and malnutrition.

Lionel didn’t answer for a moment, before pointing to the countertop, saying that her breakfast is on the counter.

Sibella forced herself to thank him, even as she stared the scrambled egg-whites and wilted spinach in the face for the fourth morning that week.

She had told Lionel hundreds of times that she detested spinach, but the man never listened.

She’d even begged a few days ago for him to add some tomato to her omelets, desperate for any sort of flavor to accompany the bland eggs and horrid spinach he always included, only to be told that tomatoes were too high in sugar.

She’d only taken one bite when the kettle began to whistle, the sound of salvation.

Jumping up and turning off the burners, then taking the kettle over to the counter where she poured the boiling water into a mug she had prepared with a teabag before she had sat down opposite Lionel.

“As a matter of fact, I was with a client last night.” Sibella smiled softly to herself, settling back into her chair with her mug of tea and disappointing breakfast.

“A client? Another of your one-timers?” Lionel sighed, taking another sip of his coffee.

Sibella gripped her mug tightly, trying to avoid another of his constant putdowns.

“Actually, this is a steady client, I believe you’ve heard of Phoebe Navarro before.” Sibella grinned coyly, spearing some egg and spinach on her fork and lifting it to her mouth.

Shock forced Lionel to lift his face, eyes meeting for the first time that morning.

“Phoebe Navarro, the darling of the stage? Why on earth would someone like her hire a makeup artist with no experience? Poor woman, I expect she’ll regret it before long.” He guffawed, making Sibella flinch.

“I have experience.” She mumbled feebly, watching as her boyfriend rose from the table, pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of her head, and stated he was off to work.

The front door slammed shut, announcing her boyfriend’s departure, and the arrival of tears to Sibella’s eyes.

The blonde woman willed herself not to cry, scraping the eggs and spinach into the garbage disposal and turning it on with the slightest satisfaction, tears stinging her eyes the longer she tried to hold them in.

The sound of her phone vibrating pulled her away from the brink of upset, and she blinked rapidly to try and banish the tears as she saw the name on her phone.

Phoebe Navarro.

Taking a quick breath, Sibella hit answer and held her phone to her ear.

“Hello?” She inquired, padding back into the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs.

_“Sibella! I wanted to tell you how many compliments I received last night because of your work, everyone said I looked positively lovely, Monty included.”_ Phoebe’s chipper tone sent Sibella’s heart skyward.

The blonde smiled as she adjusted the phone, tucking it between her shoulder and ear as she walked to her closet and pulled open the doors, examining her choices for the day.

“I should hope that your husband did more than only telling you how lovely you looked.” She tutted, pulling a pink dress out of the closet to examine, then putting it back.

_“Quite right! What are you up to today?”_ Phoebe giggled, her laugh just as musical as her speaking voice.

Sibella raised her eyes up as she thought, trying to remember exactly what plans she might have.

“Absolutely nothing. Lionel has some horrid work event tonight, but he hasn’t asked me to go with him, so I suspect I’ll spend my day in my pajamas.” Sibella replied after finding nothing in her immediate memory.

_“Perfect! I insist you come over so we can get to know each other better, I’ll order out, and do some baking. We can always watch movies at the very least, if we can’t think of anything else to do! Wear something comfortable and head over as soon as possible.”_ Phoebe ordered, then disconnected the call before Sibella could even think about denying her.

Sibella could only laugh as she tossed her phone on the bed, her employer would certainly not be denied, especially if it meant the chance for foods Lionel would never allow.

Picking a simple pink tracksuit and white tank top out of her closet, Sibella grabbed her towel and outfit before padding into the bathroom for a quick shower.

She still wanted to be presentable, even if Phoebe had demanded comfort.


	3. Bonding.

By the time Sibella had arrived at Phoebe’s apartment she felt ravenous, though the sensation wasn’t at all foreign to the blonde woman. Lionel’s breakfasts were rarely filling, even on the occasion when she did force herself to choke down the bland eggs and wilted spinach.

Raising her fist and knocking softly on the door, Sibella tried to ignore the nervous rolling of her stomach.

Phoebe was her employer, a very successful, very generous, very married woman, and nothing more. And while it made perfect sense to be nervous about pleasing her boss, today was an exception to that feeling, there was no pressure to please Phoebe today.

All the starlet wanted was for them to get to know each other.

It made sense, how could Sibella hope to style the woman, if she didn’t know a single thing about her other than her career and the fact that she was beautiful in every sense?

The sound of the doorknob turning made Sibella smile without a single thought as to why, but the sight of Phoebe left her breathless.

The woman in question was wearing a short, lilac nightgown that fell midthigh and her dressing gown from the previous day, her hair was in some intricate braid Sibella could only attempt to piece together in her mind, she wore little makeup, a light coverage foundation and some mascara, if Sibella detected correctly.

“Sibella! I’m so glad you came!” Phoebe pulled Sibella into an unexpected, albeit pleasant, hug, causing the blonde to stiffen ever so slightly.

“How could I refuse?” Sibella quipped as Phoebe laced her fingers between hers and pulled her into the apartment, the blonde’s mouth feeling as though a desert had taken the place of her tongue.

Surely if she could survive this job, she could survive anything.

“I’ve already ordered Chinese from this amazing little restaurant in Chinatown, I hope you don’t mind I ordered for you. I tried to get a little bit of everything so that there’s some variety!” Phoebe smiled sheepishly, leading Sibella to a kitchen that looked as if it had been ripped out of a display somewhere.

A large island separated a rather impressive cooktop range from the cabinets and sink, a stainless-steel fridge sat tucked between the oven. To say the least, the kitchen was breathtaking, even to Sibella who rarely cooked.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really picky. If I can avoid spinach and scrambled eggs, I’m happy.” Sibella replied, smiling and taking the seat opposite the petite brunette in the breakfast nook.

Phoebe giggled, crossing her legs at the ankles as she did so and looking at Sibella with glee.

“May I ask what’s so awful about spinach and scrambled eggs?”

“I think spinach is a revolting thing, bland and soggy when it’s cooked down. Scrambled eggs aren’t as bad, provided they have even the slightest bit of flavor to them to mask the rubbery texture. I’m afraid Lionel isn’t one to use spices when he cooks.” Sibella grimaced, feeling her stomach growl even with the mention of her discarded breakfast.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the subject, instead moving to the fridge and grabbing a container of breakfast sausages, placing a few into a smaller container which went into the microwave for a few moments.

“Monty cooked them yesterday, but they should hold you over until the rest of our feast gets here.” Phoebe handed Sibella the container, sitting back down and watching earnestly as Sibella raised one to her lips, taking a bite and sighing as the flavors of the meat rolled across her tongue.

Phoebe didn’t say another word until Sibella had finished all of the sausages, but Sibella felt the eyes roaming her body.

The idea that her employer was examining her made Sibella’s palms sweat and fingers tingle, had she changed her mind already?

Sibella didn’t look up even as she heard Phoebe move into the vacant chair next to her, feeling soft hands on her shoulders, then fingers on her chin. Her flesh reacted to Phoebe’s touch, rising and pimpling like it did when she got cold.

“Have you been crying?” Phoebe’s voice was soft and warm as Sibella’s eyes rose from her lap to meet Phoebe’s cerulean blue.

“I had a nightmare early this morning, that’s all.” Sibella lied, smiling in hopes of keeping Phoebe’s questions at bay.

Whether Phoebe bought her fiction or not, she couldn’t say, but she couldn’t deny the way breath caught in her throat as Phoebe’s lips lightly touched her neck, trailing up the length.

Alarm flooded her body, causing her to stiffen and clench her fists in response.

_“This isn’t right, it’s not right. Stop this, Sibella.”_ She scolded herself as soft lips came up the underside of her jawbone.

The sound of a knock on the door made both women jump, and Sibella took a moment to recover her nerves as Phoebe rose to answer it.

Sibella’s heart raced in her chest, thumping so hard she could feel it in her toes and hear it in her ears, and she tried to take steady, silent breaths to calm herself.

Had Phoebe meant to do that?

Sibella failed to see how something _that_ intimate could be an accident, but stranger things could happen. Phoebe seemed to love her husband, and didn’t seem like the type to have an affair under any circumstances.

“Heavens, did you buy out the restaurant? Let me help you.” Sibella forced herself to tease Phoebe, jumping up to help the struggling woman with the various bags of takeout.

“I did warn you I bought a little bit of everything. If you’ll open the containers and set them on the table, I’ll get something for us to drink. Do you have a preference?” Phoebe replied, winking at Sibella as she sat the bags on the tabletop.

Sibella thought for a moment, her tongue raising to touch the roof of her mouth as she did so.

“Red wine?” She inquired, setting to the task assigned to her.

“Perfect, I prefer white wine myself though I’m sad to say I won’t be joining you in the consumption of it. I’ve had to cut out alcohol for this show.” Phoebe grinned, going behind the island and pulling a bottle of red wine out of the wine cooler and examining the bottle.

“Yes, I think a Pinot Noir will do nicely.” Phoebe spoke aloud, though it was clear she was speaking to herself.

Sibella had just finished arranging everything when Phoebe brought the bottle and a wine glass over, filling it before passing it to Sibella.

“And what will you be drinking, since alcohol is off-limits?” Sibella inquired with a pout.

Phoebe laughed, though it was more like a quick exhale of air.

“Water. I’ll need to keep hydrated with all of the salt in these dishes.”

The pair ate silently at first, then they began asking questions about each other.

“So, will I ever get to meet the illustrious Mr. Navarro? I gather he’s quite the catch.” Sibella teased, bringing more lo-mein onto her plate before offering the container to Phoebe.

“All in good time, I promise. He left this morning for a business trip, something about making new connections in London. As for the other matter, I consider myself very lucky in him. He’s an absolute darling, though extremely protective and paranoid from time to time. He has his reasons of course, and I have to force myself to remember that before I snap at him. Sometimes he’s rather chastening.” Phoebe smiled, glancing at her ring then back at Sibella.

Phoebe’s engagement ring was a silver band with some scrolling vine engraving on the band, and in lieu of the traditional diamond, a single pearl was set into the middle of the band, and Sibella thought it was one of the prettiest she’d ever seen.

“Your ring is absolutely lovely, I daresay Mr. Navarro has good taste.” Sibella nodded approvingly, sipping her wine as Phoebe laughed.

“He might now, but I was very surprised with this ring’s style when he proposed. He wasn’t always so up to date with his style. Of course, there’s meaning behind his non-traditional choice in engagement ring. My aunt was extremely impressed.” Phoebe practically snorted as she laughed, drawing laughter from Sibella’s own lips.

“May I ask about this meaning?”

Phoebe sipped her water, placing her chopsticks diagonally on her plate.

“When we first met, I told him that an oyster’s shell itself was unassuming, but if he looked inside he’d find a pearl. Mind you, I was speaking about my family’s reputation, and how people assumed I was just like them, despite my being rather different. When he did ask me to marry him, he told me that he had looked inside the oyster’s shell and found a pearl. Naturally, I wept profusely.” Phoebe explained as Sibella too placed her chopsticks down.

Sibella chuckled, and told Phoebe she thought it was just lovely all around, and that she couldn’t wait to meet the mysterious Mr. Navarro.

“What about you? You’ve mentioned your boyfriend before now, only slightly but I confess I am quite curious.” Phoebe inquired as she padded over to the island and pulled out some dough from the fridge.

Sibella strolled over to the island, settling herself on a barstool and watching Phoebe’s actions with interest.

“Lionel’s a decent man, my parents are very fond of him. His actions may not always make sense, but he says he only means well and wants to do the best for me as he can. We’ve been dating two years, but I don’t have much else to say about him.” Sibella sighed, rolling her eyes once as she spoke.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow quizzically, taking the dough and kneading it.

“Surely there must be something _else_ to him if you’ve stayed with him for two years now? I can’t imagine staying with someone who sounds like nothing more than a pompous ass who’s main concern is his girlfriend’s weight, unless there’s some redeeming qualities I don’t know about.” Phoebe inquired, taking a pastry tool and cutting the dough into several pieces, separating them and starting to work with one bit.

“He does.”

The words left Sibella’s lips, but didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

Lionel had little to offer with the exception of money and her parent’s approval, which was the main reason she stayed with him.

Sibella simply couldn’t handle hearing her parents berate her for letting him go for the rest of her life.

As Phoebe continued her baking, they spoke about several other topics, each woman learning more about the other as the hours passed, and once dessert had finished the pair moved into the living room for tea and some movies, though they talked through the majority of them.

At the end of the night, Sibella sadly made her goodbyes, thanking Phoebe for the lovely day and hospitality.

Phoebe had once again kissed Sibella’s cheek, but this time she ran her hands through Sibella’s golden curls as she pulled away.

As Sibella rode in her cab home, she heard her mother’s voice in her ears, the words as fresh as the day they were spoken.

_“Relationships are meant to be between a man and a woman alone. We’ll have no more of this liking women and men business, do you hear? No more of it.”_

As she crawled into bed next to her snoring boyfriend, Sibella’s heart ached, but she couldn’t place why that was.

All she could hope was that those feeling returned back to where they had been repressed to before she had met Phoebe.

It had to if Sibella was going to work for her.


	4. Something Less Than Romance.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur, Sibella had been working extremely hard as Phoebe’s show was opening the next week, so there was always some press event she had to go to, which meant Sibella was over at the Navarro residence more often than she was in her own.

Lionel grumbled, but when Sibella brought home her first paycheck, which was very generous indeed, he stopped complaining out loud.

He even promised they’d go out to dinner to celebrate her success, though he had told her ordering would be in his control, grumbling about the fact that Sibella had gained five pounds in the time she had been working for Phoebe.

The blonde didn’t mind, she supposed, after all, Phoebe’s pastries and leftovers from meals Monty had made were delicious, and exceedingly different from the usual fare she was forced to eat at home.

Though, in the shower she often pondered why there were so many leftovers, seeing as she had yet to meet Mr. Navarro for herself, along with the fact that he only had himself and Phoebe to cook for.

So her date night with Lionel finally arrived, though Sibella was dreading it from the beginning.

Lionel often made it a point to make an example of the twig-thin women that frequented his favorite restaurant, saying that she ought to look like they did.

Sibella usually ignored his comments, and the way he stared after the women when he thought was couldn’t see it, but the truth was, she saw every unsavory glance.

So, as Sibella finished off Phoebe’s ensemble for the night, she left her kit there and went straight to the restaurant where she had promised to meet Lionel, having gotten ready before going to her client.

Lionel had greeted her with a greasy kiss, and Sibella had forced herself to endure it as her boyfriend’s good moods were few and far between as of lately.

“How was work?” Lionel inquired, taking her menu out of her hands before she even had a chance to glance at it.

Sibella plastered a fake smile on her face, replying that work was fine and she was famished.

“I’ve already ordered for you.” Lionel muttered, turning his gaze back to his smartphone.

Sibella tried her hardest not to let his attitude bother her, she’d had a wonderful time with Phoebe, though it seemed her employer was growing bolder with her advances each day.

Of course, Sibella tried to deflect as many as she could, but she still had yet to understand why Phoebe was making them in the first place, as the petite brunette didn’t seem at all unhappy with her marriage.

In fact, she’d wager Phoebe was very much in love with her husband.

So why was she constantly touching Sibella in some fashion or another?

Every arrival and departure saw kisses to Sibella’s cheeks, every laugh brought Phoebe’s fingers to lace between her own, Phoebe had taken to trailing her lips up the length of Sibella’s neck, hot breath mixing with the gentlest caresses from feather-soft lips.

Phoebe had even started kissing each of Sibella’s wrists when Sibella would place one hand on her shoulder.

The blonde wouldn’t lie and say these things didn’t affect her.

After all, two women together were wrong, it simply wasn’t done.

However, at the same time, Sibella couldn’t deny that it made her feel in a way she had only felt once before, a very long time ago.

The way her heart would flutter at even the smallest of glances at her employer, the way her palms would sweat and her fingers tingle. The shivers that ran down the length of her spine into the very tips of her toes, the way her blood ran hot through her veins.

It was all very foreign, and Sibella’s mind would scream that it was wrong, morally, ethically, exceedingly wrong.

She would reminder herself that Phoebe was married, that perhaps she only meant to be friendly and Sibella was misinterpreting what was actually happening due to her sheltered past and devoutly religious parents.

That she was only seeing things differently because she feared she was right.

The arrival of their food forced Sibella from her thoughts, only to see the most disappointing salad she had ever set eyes on, while Lionel accepted his feast of steak, wings, and skillet potatoes.

“Can I bring you a specific dressing, Madam?” The waiter inquired, seeing Sibella turn up her nose slightly at her plate.

“No dressing for her, she’s on a diet.” Lionel said between chews, glaring at the waiter as if the mere suggestion offended him.

As the waiter slunk away from the table as quickly as he could, Sibella examined the contents of her meal.

Romaine lettuce, kale, and spinach, much to Sibella’s chagrin, was all her “celebratory” meal consisted of, and she’d be forced to choke it down plain, or endure Lionel’s wrath later on.

She ate quickly, albeit quietly, and hoped that Lionel would do the same.

Alas, he did not, taking his time between each bite and sip of beer, taking over an hour to finish his meal before he paid and they started the journey home.

The dim lighting in their apartment comforted Sibella, she would take a long, hot shower, she decided.

Lionel would be asleep long before she exited the soothingly steamy walls of her bathroom and would free her to sleep without his useless, end of day chat he had insisted they do every night since she had moved in.

However, her plans were dashed when Lionel beckoned her over to him on the couch, asking her to sit with him for a moment.

“Yes, dear?” Sibella inquired after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“I’ve spoken to your parents, and with their permission, we’re going to be married.” Lionel pulled a ring box out of his pocket, handing it to her with not even the slightest sense of propriety.

Sibella’s mouth dropped open, and her blood began to boil.

Lionel actually thought she would accept him, with his proposal being the way it was?

“No.” Sibella briskly closed and handed the box back to him, standing and starting to move away from him.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get far, as Lionel’s hand closed around her wrist and whirled her back around to face him.

“Excuse me?” Lionel hissed, shoving her hand away from him.

“I said no. You must realize I’d never accept a proposal like that under any circumstances. I don’t care how long we’ve been together.” Sibella challenged, shoving him backwards slightly, trying to gain some distance away from him.

Lionel coughed once, before stalking forward and slamming Sibella back against the wall, her head colliding with it in a flash of pain and anger.

“You don’t get to say no to me. Your parents have given me their blessing to marry you, and marry you I will. I _own_ you, everything that you have now _I_ paid for. If you continue to refuse me, I promise I’ll be less generous than I might have been if you’d accepted when I gave you the chance.” Lionel growled, bringing his face forward so that they were nose to nose.

Sibella could smell the alcohol on his breath, paired with the smell of grease, and it nearly made her sick to her stomach.

“No.” Sibella spat, struggling against his grip.

She hadn’t seen the slap coming, nor had she realized what had happened until half of her face stung and her eyes watered of their own accord.

“I’ll advise you not to cross me.” Lionel hissed, taking her arms in his pudgy hands and squeezing her tight enough that she began to buckle from the pain.

In a moment of final desperation, Sibella slammed her knee into Lionel’s crotch, then drove her heel into the top of his foot, running to the door to grab her purse and slip away into the night.

Lionel didn’t follow her into the streets, which were dimly lit and had some chill to the air despite it being late spring.

Once she had made considerable distance from her apartment building, her vision blurred with tears and her throat struggled not to let her sobs free as she walked.

She couldn’t even see where she was going, her legs moving her through the city on their own without care.

She wasn’t sure how long she had walked before she stopped and she blinked away tears, her face still stinging slightly and her feet protesting any further movement as she looked up to see where she was.

She had walked all the way to Phoebe’s apartment building, without realizing it.

Wiping away a few tears, cursing her luck as more fell to take their place on her cheeks, Sibella pushed open the door and entered the main lobby.

The doorman, Arthur, still sat at his desk, looking up at the sound of the bell on the door.

His face changed from confusion to shock, standing up as if that would change what he was seeing.

“Miss Hallward? What happened?!” He inquired as Sibella approached the desk, limping slightly and running her hands through her hair.

“It’s a long story, Arthur. Is Mrs. Navarro at home?” Sibella whimpered, tears streaking down her cheeks more rapidly as the doorman she had come to see as a friend witnessed her embarrassment.

Arthur shook his head.

“She’s still out for that press event, but Mr. Navarro is home, go on up and I’ll buzz to alert him. He won’t mind, he’s a kind man.” Arthur ushered her into the elevator before she had the chance to refuse him.

She wasn’t sure she would have refused him, it was dark outside and for the harsh city streets she did look rather vulnerable.

To some of the thugs she was sure she’d look like the perfect target to mug, if not worse…

As the elevator rose, so did Sibella’s heart rate, she had never met Mr. Navarro before, and the idea of their first meeting with her looking like the mess she did was not at all what Sibella had pictured.

After all, she had only been working for his wife for a few weeks, and she knew Phoebe greatly regarded his opinions, so if he decided she was too much of a hot mess to be working for his beloved wife, would he make Phoebe see that and fire her?

Stepping out of the elevator on shaky legs, Sibella stopped in front of the familiar door, and knocked.

“ _Here goes nothing._ ” She thought, sniffling.


	5. Mr. Navarro

The door opened almost immediately, revealing the most handsome man Sibella had _ever_ seen.

A tall, slim yet muscular, well-dressed man with a strong jawline, messy hair that almost refused to be tamed, an ideally prominent nose, and the loveliest blue eyes Sibella had ever seen, apart from Phoebe’s.

“Sibella, come in, please.” Monty whisked her into the apartment, his hand carefully at her lower-back as he guided her to the sofa.

As he settled her, Sibella realized that he hadn’t called her by her surname, but by her first name.

“I’ll get you a cold pack for your face, is there anything else I can do for you? A shower? Anything at all?” His fingers found her chin, as he turned her face gently to observe the apparent damage.

Sibella tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a whimper.

“A shower sounds lovely, but I don’t have anything else to change into.” She murmured, casting her eyes on the floor despite the intense urge to stare the man in the eyes.

Monty chuckled softly, dropping to his knees at her side so he could look at her.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll lend you some things of mine to wear, I’m afraid anything of Phoebe’s would be entirely too short on you.” Monty joked, eliciting a small laugh out of the upset blonde.

So, Sibella followed him to the master bathroom, where he quickly set about gathering the clothing he had promised, and threw a towel into the towel warmer before he started the shower.

She sat down on top of the toilet while he did this, watching him fiddle with the dials before sticking his forearm under the spray to test the temperature, then fiddle with the dials again.

“There, I think the water should be warm enough, but not hot enough to scald you. Just in case, the cold dial is on the right, the hot on the left. I should also mention that the nozzle has several different settings, everywhere from standard to waterfall, so feel free to adjust it to your needs or desires.” Monty smiled, flicking the water droplets from his arm as he walked toward the door.

Sibella thanked him with all the volume she could muster, noting the way that Monty Navarro seemed just as attentive as Phoebe was.

Just at that moment, her stomach decided to announce her hunger, not satisfied by the salad from earlier that evening.

“I’m so sorry!” Sibella was mortified.

This was decidedly not how she had wanted her first meeting with her employer’s husband to go, for she had shown up at his door in tears, almost certain her hair was disheveled and mascara stains ran down her cheeks, a snapped heel from her hasty walk to their building.

She half expected him to turn up his nose in disgust, but it never came.

Instead, he smiled warmly and told her that dinner would be ready when she came out from the bathroom, along with the cold pack if she needed it, then left her to shower.

Once the door had shut behind him, Sibella scurried for it and locked it as a habit, then turned to look at her reflection in the mirror, wincing as soon as she did.

Her hair was indeed disheveled, windswept and wild, and mascara stains did run the length of her cheeks, but what she was most unprepared to see was the way half of her face had started to swell up, and a small bruise had formed at the top of her cheekbone in the time between her escape from Lionel and her arrival at the Navarro residence.

Sibella’s eyes stung with new tears as she removed her clothing and stepped into the shower, finding the water’s temperature to be perfect.

She did fiddle with the features of the nozzle, enjoying the way the waterfall setting pounded against her back as she used a small bit of Phoebe’s shampoo to wash her hair, hoping that her employer wouldn’t mind terribly.

Sibella felt worse as the shower continued, as she had to use some of Phoebe’s face wash and soap as well, though she used the smallest amount possible to try and minimalize the damage.

If she didn’t get fired from Monty’s account of how she had turned up to their home, there was still a chance from the fact that she had used some of her employer’s shower things.

Taking a deep breath, Sibella turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing the delightfully warm towel from the towel warmer and wrapping it tightly around her body.

Strangely enough, the mirror hadn’t fogged despite the length and temperature of her shower, which revealed dark, angry bruising on her arms where Lionel had tried to squeeze her into submission.

Her stomach growled as Sibella quickly changed back into her own undergarments, then into the soft sweatpants and white V-neck t-shirt Monty had laid out for her, piling her own clothes and ruined heels into a small corner, hoping they would go unnoticed by Phoebe when she returned.

The blonde woman couldn’t say whether or not Monty had told his wife of her arrival, and if he hadn’t, seeing Sibella’s clothing discarded in the master bathroom and the blonde herself in her husband’s clothing would certainly send the wrong message.

As Sibella exited the bathroom, she could smell the most heavenly things coming from the kitchen, her feet carrying her faster as a result of her deprived stomach.

In the kitchen, Monty had kept the sleeves of his pristine white button-down rolled up, standing in front of the range and humming as he added something to a skillet, but Sibella couldn’t tell what.

She pulled out a barstool and sat down, watching silently as he cooked and continued humming.

If he had noticed her enter the room, he made no reference to it, focused only on the task at hand.

“Phoebe never told me you could sing.” Sibella commented, intrigued by the melody of his humming.

Monty chuckled as he turned around, handing her a cold pack wrapped in a towel.

“My father was a musician, he died when I was very young, but my mother made certain I was properly trained in song and the piano. Phoebe’s the real singer, though. Now, hold that against your face while I finish dinner. I trust you like chicken pot pie?” Monty explained, winking at her before turning back to the skillet.

“I’m very fond of it, though I don’t get to enjoy it often.” Sibella replied, her mouth watering at the prospect of a real meal.

Monty grinned.

“I’m afraid it isn’t a proper one, I topped it with baked Pillsbury biscuits, but it should still taste nice.” He stated somewhat sheepishly.

Sibella laughed, an actual laugh, for the first time that night.

“When in Rome, Mr. Navarro.” She commented, switching the cold pack from her left hand to her right hand.

“Quite right, and it’s Monty. Please.” He corrected.

Just like his wife, he preferred to be on a first name basis.

Not long after that, Monty handed her a plate piled high, and poured her a glass of red wine before joining her.

They ate silently for a moment, before Monty cleared his throat.

“I won’t press you to tell me what happened, but I’m afraid that Phoebe will. She’s very fond of you, so seeing those bruises is going to set her off. She’s going to want to know who’s responsible, and she’s going to want to make them pay.” Monty spoke softly, as if his soft tone could shield Sibella from the meaning behind his words.

Sibella stiffened, a bite half-chewed in her mouth.

She swallowed before telling Monty she had expected as much, but she wouldn’t let Phoebe go anywhere near the person who had bruised her.

Monty chuckled softly, saying she had no idea how stubborn his wife could be, but he’d let her find how just how much in her own time, as he turned back to his meal.

Then there was silence again, and Sibella relished in the fact it was a comfortable silence, nothing like the silence she was so accustomed to, until the sound of a key in the lock broke it.

“Darling, I’m absolutely starving, would you mind making me a plate while I hang up my coat?” Phoebe’s voice was a mix of excitement and exhaustion, which Sibella could easily understand, knowing that Phoebe had been at rehearsals all morning, came home to get glammed, then immediately leaving for her press event.

And based on what Monty had told Sibella earlier, Phoebe’s night was about to get longer.

“You know perfectly well I always have a plate ready for your arrival.” Monty feigned offense, getting up and going to the warmer drawer, where he removed a third plate of steaming chicken pot pie and setting it on the bar to his left.

Phoebe’s lively giggle got closer.

“I know, darling. I just like to tease y- Sibella! I didn’t know you were here, what a pleasant surprise!” Phoebe’s heels clicked as she got closer to them and Sibella tried her hardest not to flinch, but failed miserably.

“Sibella, what’s the matter? I’ve never seen you jump so, you’re like a scared field mouse.” Phoebe added, noticing the change in her friend’s behavior.

Phoebe turned and looked at Monty, waiting for an answer from either party, not failing to notice that Sibella was wearing Monty’s clothes.

Though that particular observation wasn’t her main concern.

Monty looked at Sibella, then back at Phoebe with a sigh, telling Sibella that it was best to get it over with then, for it would only be worse later.

Phoebe was starting to get angry now, she didn’t like being left out of the loop and her husband knew that.

So why was he actively keeping information from her?

“Best get what over with?” Phoebe challenged, her hands finding her hips almost immediately.

Phoebe had to confess it was satisfying to see her husband scramble when she made her pose, for he knew the pose she had picked told him she meant business, and that there would be consequences if he continued on his path of exclusion.

A moment of thick tension passed, with Phoebe standing her ground and Monty pleading with Sibella to do what his wife had asked, coming to an end with a heavy sigh from Sibella as she turned to face the petite brunette.

Phoebe’s mouth dropped from shock, seeing half of Sibella’s face enflamed and eyes glittering with tears threatening to fall at any second.

The shock turned to horror as Phoebe continued to scan Sibella’s body with her eyes, taking one step toward Sibella with an outstretched hand, struggling to form words to express what she wanted to.

For she had seen the dark bruising on Sibella’s arms.

Phoebe’s mind raced as she stood there and stared at them, knowing for a fact that they hadn’t been there when Sibella left earlier in the evening, and then wondering how dark they would get, as she knew they probably hadn’t started out as dark as they were now.

_How long had Sibella been here?_

_How long had it been since the initial bruising had taken place?_

Phoebe took another careful step toward Sibella, who stood trembling.

“Lionel Holland did this?” Phoebe’s voice was a whisper, and while she meant it as a question, it more closely resembled a statement.

Sibella nodded, blinking quickly and looking down as if to avoid Phoebe seeing her cry.

“Shh, you’re safe now. Nothing can harm you here.” Phoebe quickly pulled Sibella into her, feeling the blonde woman’s body shudder as she began to sob.

While she stood, comforting Sibella, inside Phoebe was a blazing fire of rage. Rage that she wasn’t sure she could ignore, for Lionel Holland had thought it was acceptable to touch a woman in this way, and had obviously thought he would get away with it.

She looked into Monty’s eyes as she murmured soothing words into Sibella’s ear, making sure Monty knew that this was far from over as long as she was alive.

A stifled yawn from Sibella broke Phoebe’s round of intense eye contact with her husband, reminding the brunette that all of that could wait a while.

“Come with me, poppet. We’ll get you settled for bed, everything else can come after you’ve slept as late as you like.” Phoebe kept her voice soft and warm as she led Sibella out of the kitchen and into the dark hallway toward her bedroom, turning instead to a door on the left and pushing it open.

Flicking on the light, Phoebe gave Sibella a quick tour of the room and attached half bathroom, reminding the blonde woman to wake her if she needed anything at all, no matter what time it was.

Only after the bedroom door had been closed, and the light turned out did Phoebe return to the kitchen, her hunger forgotten.

Monty sat at the bar, a plate of food in his hand.

“You need to eat.” He prodded, placing it in front of her as she sat down on his left side.

Phoebe’s mouth watered, but she couldn’t find it in herself to try and force it down.

Monty sat quietly for just a moment, an eyebrow raised to let her know he had no intention of letting her skip dinner.

With a heavy sigh, Phoebe picked up her fork and brought some food to her lips, trying to eat something for his benefit.

“I haven’t seen you like this since…” Monty trailed off, as though he were walking on eggshells.

Phoebe tried not to clench her jaw at his implication, knowing he had every right to make that statement.

“No, you haven’t. And I’m sure you know why, but darling, I beg you. _Please_ don’t make me say it, not tonight.” Phoebe swallowed, pleading with her husband.

Monty sighed, lacing his fingers with hers before bringing the back of her hand up so he could kiss it.

“I won’t force you if you aren’t ready to admit it, though I assume it’s because she’s not sure in us, not in the way we’d like her to be.” Monty promised, watching as Phoebe took another bite, noting the way she forced herself to take in more food.

His statement made her pause, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“We?” She inquired softly, setting her fork down on her plate and caressing his cheek with her other hand.

Monty smiled, kissing her forehead softly.

“Yes, we. I think, if she feels up to the challenge, we’ll do well together. All three of us, but we mustn’t jump the gun. She has to be sure, if only to save us some grief.” Monty replied softly, watching his wife’s eyes light up in a way they hadn’t done in two years.

Phoebe smiled as she kissed him, hooking her fingers between his collar and tie.

“Come to bed.” She whispered with a yawn, standing only to be scooped into her husband’s arms.

“Of course, Mrs. Navarro.” Monty teased as he began to carry her to their room.

Phoebe gave him a light swat with the back of her hand.

“Not for _that_ , darling. Sleep now, that can come later.” Phoebe smiled, batting her eyelashes innocently.

No sooner had she said it did Monty yawn, only just beginning to feel tired from the day’s events.

He supposed, for now, rest was necessary.

 


	6. The Morning After.

When Sibella opened her eyes the next morning, immediate panic flooded her system as she struggled to remember where she was, and what had brought her to her current location.

As she panicked, her stomach flipped and tossed within her, and bile began to rise dangerously in the back of her throat, burning as it climbed.

Then, all at once, she recalled the previous night.

The way Lionel had hurt her, and how she had arrived in this bedroom in the Navarro residence.

Sibella tried to place her face in her hands, breathing heavily and wincing when the left side of her face made contact with her palm.

_“I shouldn’t have come here, I shouldn’t have involved them. I need to get back to Lionel, to fall at his feet and beg for mercy. Maybe he’ll still marry me, maybe once we’re married things will get better. I’ll keep to his diets, anything he desires.”_ Sibella’s thoughts were rapid fire as she tried to untangle herself from the blankets twisted around her legs.

She wondered briefly whether her clothes were still piled in Phoebe and Monty’s bathroom, tucked in the corner between the door and the wall.

_Were Phoebe and Monty awake_?

She couldn’t just barge into their room if they were still asleep, it was bad enough that they had witnessed her shame, the idea of waking them with more of her relationship nonsense seemed unfair.

Sighing, Sibella stood and began to quietly enter the living room, just in case her employers were awake.

The last thing she needed them to see was her walk of shame, crawling back to Lionel.

Alas, she seemed to be very unlucky indeed, finding both of her employers sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and conversing quietly.

“Sibella! Did you sleep well? We ought to get another cold pack for your face, it looks like it hurts.” Phoebe immediately came to the blonde woman, leading her over to the couch and sitting her down before flitting to the kitchen and back.

“How do you take your coffee?” Phoebe inquired, handing her another cold pack wrapped in a towel.

Sibella noticed the way Phoebe’s eyes roamed her body, inspecting the damage.

It felt wrong of her to like it, wrong in every way.

“I don’t drink coffee. Though, I really needed to ask you where my clothes are.” Sibella tried to keep her stance short and to the point, not wanting to waste any more of their day than she already had.

Phoebe wrinkled her brow, looking to Monty for a moment, then back at Sibella.

“I’ll get them. I mended the rip in your shirt this morning, it shouldn’t show, and your skirt was fine upon further inspection. But, I’m afraid there was nothing I could do for your heels, what with one snapped clean off.” Phoebe suddenly stopped moving toward her bedroom, turning around and looking at Sibella horrified.

“Tell me you don’t plan to go back to him. He _hit_ you!”

Sibella couldn’t bring herself to look her employer in the face.

“I have to go back.” The blonde woman murmured, willing herself not to cry as her eyes began to burn.

“No, you don’t have to do anything! He’s been trying to classically condition you, to make you think that he is the best offer you are ever going to get, but that isn’t true!” Phoebe flew off the handle, finally losing her battle to the rage that had taken root last night.

“Phoebe-” Monty tried to interject, for which Sibella was grateful, but Phoebe didn’t hear him.

“You can’t go back to him, Sibella. You _can’t!_ If that was the first time he’s done anything like that, what’s to stop him from doing worse? Who’s to say that the next time you cross him, or disagree with him, you won’t end up half dead in a hospital somewhere? Sibella, I beg you not to go back to that _monster!_ Please, I can’t stand the thought of you being with a man who abuses you.” Phoebe worked herself into a frenzy, near tears at the prospect of Sibella staying with someone who treated her so cruelly.

“Phoebe, stop!” Monty tried again, rising from his seat.

“No, Phoebe. I must go back to him, I must accept his proposal. I must make him happy, please. Don’t ask me to stay away from him, I have nowhere else to go, he owns everything I have. I have nothing without him, and not to mention my parents. They’ll have a proper fit when he tells them that I denied him, they say he’s the only proper offer I’ll ever get. If I go back, maybe he won’t have told them yet, and perhaps if I go back and beg him to be merciful he won’t tell them anything at all.” Sibella’s voice wavered as the truth slipped from her tongue, realizing what hell her life would be if Lionel did decide to tell her parents.

Dread gripped Sibella like a vice, for she hadn’t told Phoebe, or Monty, what had happened the night before.

Now, in her moment of panic, she had admitted it freely.

Phoebe fell to her knees at Sibella’s side, obviously upset, but for what reason Sibella couldn’t say.

“Listen to me, please. You can stay here, Monty and I can take care of everything, and that bastard can never touch you again. You don’t need to worry about your parents, you’re a grown woman and they must accept that, and they have no control over the decisions you make. Sibella, I beg you. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”

This made Sibella’s body hum with rage, knowing perfectly well that Phoebe’s parents were long dead.

Phoebe didn’t understand, how could she?

She had no idea what her parents were capable of, no idea how much hell they could put her through.

“What do you know of my parents? Your parents died in a fire just before you came of age! You don’t have them trying to keep their thumb on you from across the pond, you have no obligations in terms of parents because your parents are _dead_!” The venom spilled from Sibella’s mouth before she could stop it, and then Sibella was forced to watch as Phoebe sat there at her side, eyes wide and glimmering with pain and hurt.

“You’re right. They are, but I know that my parents loved me and respected me enough to allow me to make my own choices. They wouldn’t try to control me, and they would certainly never ask me to go back to a man who put his hands on me and left marks because I turned down his proposal. In fact, they’d string up the man who tried and make sure that he never so much as whispered my name again. I’m sorry if your parents don’t respect your decisions enough to understand why you made them. Just know that if you do go back to Lionel Holland, you are immediately dismissed. I won’t stand by and watch quietly as that man hurts you repeatedly, Sibella. I can’t do it, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to ask it of me.” Pain echoed in every syllable of Phoebe’s speech, letting Sibella know that she had crossed a line.

Then, Phoebe stood, and turned her back to Sibella as she began to walk toward her bedroom.

“Phoebe…” Monty tried once more to turn his wife to him, to make her look at him, go to him.

Phoebe stopped, turning her head, but not looking at either person.

“Not now, darling. I’m rather tired and need to go lie down.” Phoebe’s voice was weak, and Sibella heard the effort it took the brunette to simply get the words across her tongue.

And then without another word the brunette woman entered her bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaving Sibella on the chair, filled with regret, and Monty standing by the chaise.

 


	7. The Sound of Silence.

After the fight, Sibella could hear nothing over her own heartbeat and the ticking clock on the wall.

Monty had retreated to the kitchen without a single word toward her, he hadn’t reprimanded her for saying what she said, nor had he acknowledged it at all, and it infuriated Sibella ever so slightly.

She had snapped at his wife, she had hurt his wife’s feelings, brought up a painful memory for his wife.

All he did was stand there, silent. He hadn’t yelled, he hadn’t raised his voice, or raised his hand toward her like she had thought he might have done. He even made the effort to take the longer route to the kitchen, around the back of the couch and chair so he didn’t cross in front of Sibella.

It all struck her as odd.

Even still, Sibella’s mind went to Phoebe, clouded with guilt and regret.

Phoebe Navarro had been only kind to Sibella, giving her a job without so much as a mention of seeing her portfolio, feeding her leftovers from their fridge without a second thought, getting to know her more than Sibella had thought she’d want to.

It was uncommon for a makeup artist and stylist to be such good friends with their employer, very uncommon. Usually they only turned up to do their job, and left without another word as soon as the job was done.

Sibella’s relationship with Phoebe didn’t resemble that at all.

She arrived early, and left late each day. The pair would laugh and talk about everything under the sun, or nothing in particular, and she found herself looking forward to seeing her boss each day.

Phoebe had even started referring to the blonde as a friend when she’d pick up the phone and the person on the line would as who was with her, which had always made Sibella smile, and her stomach flutter in ways she ought to feel with her boyfriend, but didn’t.

Sibella strained her ears to try and hear what was going on in the bedroom, where Phoebe had sealed herself away after Sibella had verbally attacked her.

_Was she alright?_

_Had she made Phoebe cry?_

_Was she sitting in her bed, trying to drown herself in her emotions?_

Sibella hoped not, her heart clenching at the very thought of Phoebe in pain, mental or otherwise.

“I have to run to the firm downtown, they’re having a crisis involving an angry patron, and I have to go diffuse it. There’s lunch in the warmer drawer if you want it.” Monty’s voice broke her train of guilty thoughts.

Sibella turned to answer him, but saw only his back as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Now that she was truly alone, Sibella ran her hands through her golden hair, at a loss.

Earlier this morning, she had been hell-bent on returning to Lionel and begging for forgiveness, and telling him that she’d be delighted to marry him, when delighted was the last thing she’d have been.

Now, Sibella wasn’t sure what to do.

If she stayed, there was no doubt that her life would improve drastically from what it had been before.

But if she went back to Lionel, she’d lose her job, and be stuck living with a man who only wanted her for her looks.

A man who treated her harshly, who had put his hands on her and expected to strike her into submission. Who didn’t take no for an answer.

But it wasn’t the prospect of losing her job that had Sibella’s heart torn to shreds, it was the prospect of losing Phoebe forever.

Sibella’s stomach clenched as she imagined a life without the smaller woman, feeling sick all the while.

While she had been taught that what she felt for Phoebe was wrong, in some ways, Sibella didn’t care.

Phoebe had accepted her from the beginning, had looked past her guards and pushed her boundaries that she had lived within all her life. She had singlehandedly begged, and fought, and clawed to keep Sibella from going back to Lionel.

And Sibella couldn’t deny that she feared the way Phoebe made her feel, the way her body chose to respond to Phoebe’s simple touches, or hugs, or when she kissed her cheek or forehead.

Her mother had locked her away the first time she had felt those things for another woman, and had been bold enough to confess it. Her mother had withheld meals for the first day, isolated her from her friends, took away anything Sibella could have found to entertain herself, made her scrub the floor until her nailbeds bled and her skin burned from the bleach water.

It hadn’t taken long for Sibella to break, and be shaped in the way her mother had wanted. To accept the verbal attacks as truth, to be degraded and shamed for something she couldn’t have helped.

And the idea of Lionel telling her parents that she had refused him, and had gone to live with a married couple, with the wife being so attached, frightened her to no end. It made her nauseous, and dizzy. The smell of the bleach came straight from her memory, nearly suffocating her even as she sat in that chair across the pond.

But, her parents hated America, and had stated several times they would never cross the Atlantic ocean to come to visit her, so Sibella realized she was quite safe.

Yes, they would both take turns blowing up her cell phone to verbally and mentally bully her, abuse her. But calls could be denied, and eventually blocked if need be.

Rising from her chair, Sibella ran her fingers through wild hair to smooth it, and found herself standing in front of Phoebe’s bedroom door.

Her heart continued to race, her palms were sweating like never before, and her body trembled beyond her control, but the blonde woman forced herself to turn the knob and enter the dark room.

Phoebe was sitting at her vanity, looking at a framed picture of her parents.

“You’re still here. I thought you would have gone as soon as I left the room.” Phoebe’s voice had little emotion, but strangely, Sibella heard no trace of tears.

No sign that Phoebe had cried because of her.

Sibella wrapped her arms around her ribcage tightly, looking at Phoebe through the reflection of the mirror.

“I won’t lie and say I hadn’t considered it, but after a while, I realized that I can’t. I don’t know why, but I can’t.” She sighed, watching Phoebe for reactions.

Phoebe perked up only slightly, and even still, Sibella only saw it because she had been looking for it.

“I meant what I said, about you living here. Monty and I would love to have you stay, and as I said before. We’ll take care of everything, you needn’t worry about a thing.” Phoebe stated after a moment of quiet.

Sibella nodded, blinking a few times.

“You should get some ice on your face, just as a precaution. I’ve got rehearsal in a bit, and I’ll be out late.” Phoebe stood from the chair, walking into her impressive closet to find something to wear for the commute to her job.

“Of course.” Sibella replied, noting that Phoebe’s answers were short and to the point.

She had been blindsided by Sibella’s comment, and Sibella figured it would take a day or two of awkwardness before it would go back to the way it had been before.

Still, Sibella did as Phoebe had asked of her, and when she was all alone only one thought made itself known.

_“What have I done?”_


	8. Mr. Holland.

The next few days were awkward indeed, with Phoebe and Sibella tiptoeing around each other almost constantly.

Phoebe had gone out and bought Sibella some wardrobe staples, a few of each item so that she’d have something to wear other than Monty’s sweats and t-shirts, all in pinks, whites, and some wine tones.

Sibella had accepted them gratefully, telling Phoebe she’d pay her back for them in time, only for Phoebe to respond that she needn’t repay her.

One day, Phoebe called Sibella into the kitchen after Monty had gone to work, and sat her down.

“I really need to apologize for the way I spoke to you the other day. I’ll make no excuses for myself, it was cruel of me to threaten you, and I had no right to do that. I hope you can forgive me.” Phoebe stated quietly, looking Sibella in the eye for the first time in days.

Sibella didn’t know what to say, but the guilt of her own comment that day continued to press on her chest like a cinderblock.

“You don’t have to apologize, I know you care about me, and I know you only want me to be safe, and happy. I can’t be either of those things if I’m with Lionel, and I need you to know that I’m sorry.” Sibella fidgeted with her hands in her lap, trying to maintain the eye contact Phoebe had initiated.

Phoebe almost laughed, almost.

“You shouldn’t be sorry.” Phoebe added, breaking her eye contact to look down at a ring on her right hand.

“I am sorry. I had no right-”

“You had every right. I attacked you out of my own selfishness, I threatened your job, your career. I made demands that I had no right to make of you, I let my own emotions get the better of my situation, I made statements about your relationship with your parents when I had no grounds to do so. I don’t know much about your parents, so to tell you that they didn’t love and respect you and your adult decisions was wrong. Undeniably wrong.” Phoebe cut Sibella off, knowing that Sibella’s comment was justified, even if only just.

“No, I didn’t. You told me about what happened to your parents, you felt that you needed to tell me even though I had never asked for an explanation. And I threw that information back in your face because I was angry. I crossed a serious line when I did that. I know that their death still hurts you, and I know that I hurt you when I said what I did. I’m so sorry, Phoebe.” Sibella continued her apology anyway, the weight coming off of her as soon as she had finished.

Phoebe said nothing for a moment, then laced her fingers with Sibella’s.

“What’s said is said, and what’s done is done. Let’s just move forward, shall we?” Phoebe smirked, winking at Sibella before turning away and going to the fridge.

“Now, we ought to see about getting your things back from Mr. Holland.” Phoebe mused, taking some dough she had made the night before out of the fridge and setting it on the countertop.

She moved around the kitchen, gathering some cinnamon, confectioner’s sugar, and Nutella, then sprinkling the countertop with it before starting to deal with the dough.

“I don’t think we can, as Lionel’s paid for everything I own except my kit. He wouldn’t just hand it over, even if we asked nicely.” Sibella sighed, thinking about how she’d have to start from scratch.

“Who said anything about asking him? Monty said we just need him to figure out how much he paid for the lot of it, and we’ll match that price.” Phoebe smirked, taking three pieces of dough and braiding them quickly.

“Besides, I’ll go over and deal with him myself if I must. I won’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

Sibella had no time to protest, for no sooner had the previous sentence left her lips, had Phoebe started a new conversation, and Sibella was forced to move along with her.

 

The next two weeks passed with the pair on much better terms, Phoebe preparing to open her show the next day, with an invited dress rehearsal that night, and she had gleefully told Sibella that she expected her to attend the opening night performance alongside Monty, as her guest.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? Wouldn’t you rather have just family for such a special occasion?” Sibella wrinkled her brow as Phoebe presented her the ticket.

“Darling, I haven’t any family left. Well, that’s not entirely true, I have an Aunt by marriage of a cousin to my brother and I, but she rarely crosses the pond. She’s said herself the only time she intends to come visit is when I’ve successfully delivered a child and have returned home to rest.” Phoebe grimaced, thinking about what fresh hell her Aunt could put her through when the time came for her and Monty to have a child.

Sibella fought back a snicker, but wasn’t quite successful.

“Your aunt sounds like rather a tyrant.”

Phoebe laughed, eyes lighting up as she did so.

“She is rather, but when you meet her I’ll let you decide for yourself. But that’s beside the point, I’d like nothing more than for you to join Monty tomorrow to see the show, and then for you _both_ to accompany me to the afterparty. You won’t deny me this?” Phoebe batted her eyelashes a few times as she spoke, sticking out her bottom lip to form a pout.

It was then that Sibella relented, accepting that there was no way she could refuse Phoebe D’ysquith Navarro.

On this, nor any other request.

Sibella sighed as Phoebe went off to shower, wishing that Monty were there to entertain her.

She had grown rather close to the pair, and found herself missing him more than she ought to be.

Recalling how she had dreaded his business trip to London as it had approached, almost wishing it would be cancelled so that he could stay with them.

Even so, he had to go, and Sibella felt more excited about his return than Phoebe did. Of course, Phoebe was used to the way he had to travel to and from London to keep an eye on the family firm.

Monty often stated that it was one of the oldest in London, and that he refused to be the one who dropped the ball and ruined the business.

Sibella supposed she could understand that, the sense of duty that kept him flitting between countries every few weeks.

“You look rather pensive, nothing too serious, I hope.” Phoebe’s voice startled Sibella, as she hadn’t realized her employer had finished her shower and dressed for the day, wearing what Sibella had picked out earlier that morning.

A pair of opaque navy tights, a black A-line skirt, and a navy blouse with a scalloped white collar. Then for jewelry, Sibella had chosen a silver statement necklace, a single bracelet, and of course, Phoebe’s wedding band and engagement ring.

For now, Phoebe wore a pair of purple house slippers, but Sibella knew later she’d put on a pair of black pumps.

“Not particularly, I was thinking about Monty.” Sibella turned to face Phoebe, noting the surprised look on Phoebe’s face.

“Heavens, I shouldn’t tell him that, or his ego will be too much to bear for weeks!”

Sibella was immediately relieved by Phoebe’s reaction, as the sentence had left her mouth without much thought. Phoebe was a kind woman, but Sibella didn’t suppose she’d take too kindly to her employee thinking about her husband.

Sibella joined Phoebe in her laughter, a bubbly feeling rising in her stomach.

Then, suddenly, the intercom buzzed.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, knowing they weren’t expecting guests that day, and Monty would never have to buzz to be let in, normally Arthur just waved him inside whether he had his key or not.

“Yes, Arthur?” Phoebe had crossed to the plate on the wall and answered back, releasing the button as she finished.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Navarro, but there’s a man at my desk who is rather insisting he come up to speak to Miss Hallward. Should I send him away?” Something in Arthur’s voice was odd, and while Phoebe couldn’t place what it was, she sensed it just the same.

“Does this man have a name?” Phoebe inquired, twirling her braid in her fingers as she waited, it was still wet from her shower, but she hadn’t wanted to put too much effort into fixing her hair when it would only be pin curled later.

“Mr. Lionel Holland.”

Sibella flinched, and practically ran to get to the com before Phoebe and tell Arthur to send him away, but was too late.

Phoebe had already given the order to send him up.

So instead, Sibella rushed to Phoebe and begged her to send him away, not to answer the door.

“Hush now, pet. He won’t try anything, and if he does I’ll simply have to remind him of his place.” Phoebe’s thumb caressed Sibella’s cheek, but it wasn’t enough to calm Sibella.

“Phoebe, you saw what he did to me, and I’m a good deal bigger than you are. If he bruised me, and those bruises are only just starting to fade, what do you think will happen to you if you make him angry? I beg you, please, _please_ don’t answer the door. Let me do it, it’s nothing I haven’t already been through.” Panic gripped Sibella like a vice, cold and unrelenting.

Something about the idea of Phoebe getting hurt by her ex-boyfriend made her blood both boil and freeze solid in her veins, her heart stop and then beat erratically within her chest, her fingers go numb, then tremble with fear.

She couldn’t let Lionel touch Phoebe.

Monty would be livid, he’d cast her out for allowing Phoebe to get hurt under her charge, he’d blame her for not being able to handle her own problems.

And if Monty cast her out, she’d have nowhere to go, except back to Lionel himself.

“Trust me. He won’t hurt me.” Phoebe removed her palm from Sibella’s cheek as Lionel pounded his fist on the front door, walking to answer it.

“Phoebe, no!” Sibella whimpered, quaking with fear as Phoebe opened the door.

Lionel immediately stepped into the entry, red faced, angry, and reeking of alcohol.

Not a good combination.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding from me. Get your things, you’re coming home with me.” Lionel sneered, eyeballing his surroundings.

Sibella only nodded, bowing her head as a sign of submission as she took a single step toward what had become her bedroom.

“No, I’m afraid she won’t be coming with you. Sibella is under my husband and I’s protection now, and you have no control over her, speaking of which. I trust you’ve received our demand for the price you’ve paid for Sibella’s possessions.” Phoebe’s voice stopped Sibella from moving any further.

It was cold, and firm, and told Sibella that she meant no nonsense, and would not allow him to make demands in _her_ home.

It frightened Sibella, to know that Phoebe had seen what kind of damage Lionel could do, that Phoebe knew he could be violent, but she still pressed him.

Lionel whipped his head around to look at Phoebe, who stood as tall as she could despite only being 5’2.

“Yeah, I got it, and I’m not gonna comply. She’s _my_ fiancée, and I’ll be damned if anyone is gonna keep her from me, so back off. I’d hate to have to hurt you.” Lionel hissed, taking a step toward Phoebe, who stood her ground.

Phoebe arched her eyebrow, a challenge, something that would no doubt send Lionel over the edge.

“Phoebe, it’s alright. I’ll go, just let me go.” Sibella plead, eyes watering as she saw Phoebe wouldn’t give up her fight.

“Actually, Mr. Holland, it’s come to my attention that Sibella has rejected your proposal, and as such you have no right to call her your fiancée, as you no longer have any claim to her. Now, you will turn over Sibella’s things, and exit my home _at once_.” Phoebe’s eyes flashed with determination, and the very sight of it made Sibella feel ill.

Lionel spat, and in one swift movement thrust his hand under Phoebe’s chin, gripping her throat and pressing her back against the wall, and Sibella couldn’t stop her shriek from leaving her.

“You act so superior, but what are you going to do now? Your precious husband isn’t here to protect you, otherwise he’d be here now. What’s stopping me from squeezing your precious little neck until you’re nothing but a pile of bones and meat, then taking what’s mine and leaving?” Lionel slurred, getting in Phoebe’s face while he had her trapped.

“Lionel, please, let her go! I told you I’ll come with you, but you must let her go!” Sibella’s knees buckled, forcing her to the floor as she started to sob.

Strangely, Phoebe didn’t struggle, didn’t try to escape Lionel’s grasp.

She just stood there, back against the wall, and she stance wide, looking at Lionel with an eerily calm demeanor.

Not quite what you’d expect from someone who’s life had been threatened.

“Stay out of this, Sibella. This is between Mrs. Navarro and I, and I think she deserves to be punished, don’t you?” Lionel sneered, giving Phoebe’s neck a quick squeeze in hopes she’d bend to his will.

But Phoebe didn’t bend to his will, nor did she react to it.

“No, Lionel, I don’t think she deserves anything of the sort. Let her go! If you don’t release her this minute I’ll not come back with you. I mean it!” Sibella felt brave now, making demands for Phoebe’s safety.

She had to protect Phoebe, she didn’t care about what happened to her, so long as Phoebe was safe.

“You don’t get to give me orders, you’re nothing but a filthy whore who ran off to the arms of a married man. Just you wait until I tell your mother about where you’ve been, but for now, I’ll do what I want with this woman, and you’ll be quiet.” Lionel barked, glaring at Sibella.

“Actually, Sibella, would you be a darling and go downstairs to fetch Arthur for me, please? I expect Mr. Holland will need help leaving.” Phoebe smirked, looking from Sibella to Lionel and back.

Sibella froze.

“No! I won’t leave you alone, not with him! I can’t do it, you’ll be dead by the time I come back!” Sibella sobbed, tears finally falling.

“Hush now, my sweet. Do what I’ve asked of you.” Phoebe commanded, making eye contact with the blond woman on the floor, who continued to sob.

“No! I can’t! I won’t do it, he’ll kill you! You must see that if I go, he’ll kill you!” Sibella choked out between guttural sobs.

Phoebe sighed, seeing Sibella so obviously distressed was making this increasingly difficult.

“Sibella. Please.”

This time, Sibella didn’t protest, didn’t argue back.

The blonde woman simply stood, and ran out of the apartment.

Sibella took the stairs, rather than waiting on the elevator to make the climb, any time wasted was time Lionel had to kill her friend, skipping stairs as she bolted for Arthur’s desk.

Slamming into the lobby, Sibella grabbed Arthur by the hand and begged him to come with her, quickly.

“Sibella, what’s the matter? Tell me what’s happening or I won’t be going anywhere.” Arthur stopped her, removing his wrist from her hand as if she hadn’t been digging her nails into his flesh.

“There’s no time! Lionel’s hurting her, he’s killing her! Please, just hurry and come with me!” Sibella wept, gripping his shirt with all she could muster.

“Hurting who? What are you on about?” Arthur inquired, but relented.

“Phoebe! Will you come or not?!” Sibella threw her arms up in pure frustration, by now Phoebe was certainly dead, and Lionel would get away with it!

“I see. Of course, I’ll come, but it’s faster to take the elevator up.” Arthur pulled Sibella into the elevator, and pressed the button to take them back to the right floor.

Sibella was antsy as the elevator rose at what felt like a snail’s pace, for every second that passed she feared that Phoebe would be taken away forever, and that she would have to deal with Monty by herself.

By the time the doors opened, Sibella grabbed Arthur and took off in a sprint down the hall, seeing the door still open but Phoebe and Lionel were not where they had stood in the entry.

Bile began to bubble within Sibella as she got closer to the apartment.

_What if Lionel had changed his mind and kidnapped Phoebe?_

_What if Lionel had decided to wait for her to come back to kill Phoebe?_

_What if he had already murdered her and took off, leaving her to deal with the mess?_

As Sibella and Arthur entered the apartment, Sibella expected to see blood, and a severely injured, if not dead, Phoebe.

But that didn’t seem to be the case.

For when they got past the entry, Sibella saw Phoebe standing upright, with Lionel out cold on the ground.

“Ah, Arthur! Good, will you take Mr. Holland and when he is awake, turn him over to the police? I’ve called, and they’re on their way. I expect they’d also like to see the security footage from our system, so I’ve had the company email it to you, so you might turn that over to them as well.” Phoebe smiled, moving to the side as Arthur came in, and started to drag Lionel out of the apartment.

“Of course, Mrs. Navarro. I think I’ll blacklist him, just in case this worm manages to wriggle his way out of jail time. That way, if he so much as steps foot on the property, he’ll be arrested immediately.” Arthur was quick about his job, removing Lionel as quickly as possible, and closing the door behind him.

Sibella’s chest heaved up and down as she examined the state of the living room, a vase had been shattered on the floor, the side table it had lived on overturned, but that was the only real damage.

The couch had been pushed back slightly, the pillows had fallen to the floor, and a painting on the wall was askew, but, nothing else was out of place.

And in the middle of it all, stood Phoebe.

Phoebe, who was unharmed, untouched.

Not a hair was out of place, her clothing intact, and the petite brunette looked exceedingly proud of herself.

Relief flooded through Sibella’s system, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she ran to her.

“Phoebe, oh, Phoebe!”

No sooner had Sibella reached Phoebe, did she wrap the small woman in her arms and pull her close, holding her tightly.

Then, in a moment of pure passion, did Sibella’s lips capture Phoebe’s.

Neither woman struggled, nor tried to pull away, and after a moment of stillness, did the kiss truly begin.

It was desperate, it was fiery, it was everything Phoebe had wanted, and Sibella had feared, but none of that mattered now.

Sibella wasn’t sure how long they had kissed for, but it was Phoebe that pulled away.

“Oh my god, Sibella, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me, I-” Sibella cut Phoebe off before she could continue, but even still, Phoebe pulled out of Sibella’s embrace and tried to distance herself.

“No, don’t!” Sibella caught Phoebe by her wrist, pulling her back.

Taking a deep breath, Sibella looked up, and saw that Phoebe looked upset.

“It’s not your fault, I kissed you, and I won’t lie to you. I liked it, I’ve never felt such passion from anyone, and while I know that two women together is wrong, while I know that you are happily married, I don’t regret it. Do you regret it?” Sibella softened her voice, taking her hand down and lacing her fingers with Phoebe’s.

Phoebe didn’t speak, but shook her head in response.

“I need to be sure that you’re alright. Did he hurt you? Did he _touch_ you?”

Once again, Phoebe shook her head.

“No. I’m perfectly alright, and as I told you, I can look after myself. I’m sorry you didn’t believe me, and that this _lapse_ happened. I understand perfectly if you wish to resign, Monty and I can help you find a place to live, a secure place, one where that man can never hurt you, we’ll-”

“I don’t want to resign. I’m just awfully conflicted, because my entire life I was told that what I felt for women is wrong, it was engraved into my brain. But, what I feel like when I’m with you, what I felt with I _kissed_ you. That wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest. In fact, it’s the first thing I’ve felt in quite some time that was right. Although, I expect I’ll need time to come to grips with what I’ve done, so I’ll apologize in advance.” Sibella cut Phoebe off a second time, staring into her eyes as she spoke.

Phoebe swallowed hard as she nodded.

“We’ll have lots to discuss, but all that can come later. For now, I think it would be best if we both went to lie down for a while. We’ve had a lot of things come to light, and we need time to reflect.” Phoebe murmured, brushing one of Sibella’s curls back out of her face.

Sibella nodded in agreement, and as she entered her bedroom and lay back on the bed, only one thing came to mind.

She would have to tell Monty about what happened, both Lionel, and the kiss.

It was only fair.


	9. Mr. Navarro Reprise

As fair as Sibella’s intentions may be, waiting for Monty go get home was hellish.

Sibella felt like she could hardly breathe while sitting on the couch, what would she do when Monty had actually arrived and she had to tell him about what had happened?

Nevertheless, Sibella waited up all the same.

Phoebe had rested for an hour or two earlier that day, then went to her rehearsal, and returned home again.

Sibella had ordered takeout, nothing too filling since she knew Phoebe would want to go to bed after she had eaten, which she had.

And Sibella had kept herself busy by cleaning the kitchen and putting away their leftovers, not that the kitchen wasn’t spotless already, one thing Phoebe had immense pride in was the state of her kitchen.

It was half past two in the morning when Sibella heard Monty’s key in the lock, and she stood to greet him, but she’d much rather have fled to her room and pretended the previous day’s events never happened.

Of course, she knew she’d never get away with it, as Phoebe and Monty kept almost no secrets from each other, and they certainly never withheld information about something like this.

Their marriage was strong, and it showed they kept in touch on every aspect.

Monty grew nervous at the very idea of keeping something from Phoebe, and the notion of keeping something from her husband made Phoebe feel ill, and Sibella knew that.

So, when Monty walked into the living room, half-asleep, Sibella made the point to clear her throat.

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers almost instantly, but he smiled despite being startled.

“I must confess, I didn’t expect you to be awake at this hour. I trust Phoebe’s been asleep for some time now?” Monty inquired, running a hand through his unruly hair.

Sibella nodded, then asked quietly if he’d join her on the couch for a moment.

He said nothing, but agreed.

As Sibella joined him, she took several deep breaths to try and gather her thoughts, to figure out how she would tell him that she had put his wife in danger, and then kissed her.

“Is everything alright?” Monty zoned in on her nervousness, asking the question before she could open her mouth.

Sibella shook her head.

“You’ve both been very generous in taking me in, and buying me new clothes, among making me feel like I belong in your family. And while I can’t tell you how much it means to me, there is something I feel you must hear from me, before Phoebe tells you herself.” She sighed, her mind scrambling to piece together his reaction, so she’d have some inkling of how angry he’d be.

Monty loved Phoebe, and was very meticulous in keeping her safe and well, no doubt this would be a hard topic to swallow.

Monty said nothing, waiting on her to continue.

“I’m afraid that Lionel came here earlier today, and he wanted me to go back with him. He was drunk, and very angry when Phoebe told him that I would be doing nothing of the sort. I tried to tell Phoebe that I would go, and that I would be fine, but she kept challenging him.” Sibella’s voice began to shake, her body beginning to tremble without her consent.

Monty chuckled softly, saying that it sounded like something Phoebe would do.

“Well, that’s just the thing. It made Lionel very angry, and he shoved her back against the wall, with his hand at her throat, prepared to… choke her. I begged him to stop, I begged Phoebe to stop challenging him, but neither would listen! She kept on, and he got angrier and angrier, and then she asked me to go downstairs and get Arthur.” Sibella began to cry, recalling for the hundredth time that day, how she had almost gotten Phoebe killed.

“And did you go get Arthur? Like she asked?” Monty inquired, placing a palm gently on her shoulder.

A gesture of comfort, which Sibella couldn’t understand.

She was telling him about how she had endangered Phoebe’s life, and he was trying to comfort her instead of throwing her out!

“Yes, but when I came back up-” Monty silenced her with a raise of his other hand.

“When you came back up, Phoebe was fine, but Lionel was on the ground, is that right?” Monty asked, brushing a stray curl out of her face.

Sibella looked at him, alarmed.

“How do you know that?”

Monty smiled at her again.

“Just a guess. I’ll also guess that you were extremely worried about Phoebe’s safety, and that you thought I’d be angry with you for what happened, but I’m not angry. I know perfectly well that Phoebe’s able to look after herself, and while I can’t tell you why I know this, I can assure you that our Phoebe is stronger than you give her credit for.” Monty chuckled as he spoke, which made Sibella feel both better, and worse.

She still had one more thing to tell him.

“Yes, well, there is one more thing you ought to hear from me. When Lionel was dragged out, and the door shut, I was so relieved to see Phoebe was unharmed, untouched, that I… I kissed her, and she kissed me back.” Sibella forced herself to say this without crying.

There would be time for that when Monty had cast her out into the streets.

Monty raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“I see, and you’re worried I’ll be angry with you for doing that.” Monty mused, pulling a distraught Sibella into his chest and holding her securely.

“Aren’t you?” Sibella whimpered, almost cursing herself for sounding like such a child.

Monty smirked, a quick breath leaving his body in place of a laugh.

“No, I can assure you that I’m not angry about that at all. Though I will confess, I’m quite tired so if we could finish this conversation in the morning, with Phoebe, I would be most grateful.” Monty released Sibella, who stood immediately.

The blonde woman nodded, quickly bidding him goodnight and rushing to her room, where she collapsed and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion as soon as she hit the pillow.


	10. What Comes Next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no excuses. Here’s the next chapter!

Though that conversation in the morning never happened, as Phoebe’s show opened, and a slew of press events had kept Sibella so busy, she barely had time to consider all of the new clientele Phoebe had brought to her.

 As for Sibella’s relationship with the actress and her husband, it was extremely difficult for Sibella to accurately express her feelings, even in her diary which she wrote in nightly since Lionel’s departure in handcuffs.

 She cared about Phoebe and Monty, of course she did. They had given her back her life.

 No, that wasn’t quite right.

 They had provided her with a life she hadn’t known she wanted, much less needed, and she was grateful.

 However, the matter of what had happened in the apartment that night plagued Sibella’s mind at all moments.

 That kiss that had made her chest tighten and burn, and her lips tingle, not to mention Monty’s carefree attitude about the whole matter. It all puzzled Sibella.

 None of these things puzzled her more than how Phoebe had managed to free herself from Lionel’s grasp and make it away unharmed.

 Sibella knew firsthand what Lionel was capable of, and a woman like Phoebe should _not_ have made it out unscathed.

 Even as this rang constantly in her ears, she hadn’t the time to focus on it, until that night.

 Phoebe had been performing for a few weeks now, and Monty had been busy with the firm, but all of that was changing as they awaited the arrival of a Mr. Henry D’ysquith.

 Phoebe would go on performing, of course, and Monty still worked on the details of the family firm, but the air seemed lighter at the news of Henry’s arrival.

 So, at last the night came when Henry D’ysquith made his way across the pond, and while Phoebe and Monty were in good spirits, Sibella was intensely anxious about the arrival.

 “You’ll like Henry, I promise, he’s very laid back and kind. Now our aunt is another story entirely, and she’ll expect you to be nervous when meeting her, but it’s all very tidy. You’ll all get along famously.” Monty offered a smile as he straightened one of the chairs in the kitchen.

 “And what makes you say that?” Sibella squeaked, it was true she was nervous about meeting Henry, but her mind was occupied by other things, and she feared Henry would call her out on them.

 Even so, she had made an effort to look nice, wearing a simple jumpsuit that was a blush pink in color, a locket she had received as a gift from her brother, and a pair of nude pumps.

 Her hair had been curled and styled accordingly, and her makeup was somewhat natural, but still very much Sibella.

 Just as it should be.

 Phoebe laughed at Sibella’s squeak, making small adjustments to Monty’s latest floral arrangement on the bar.

 “He’s rather a dandy, if you know what I mean. He might look intimidating, but he’s really more of a child than he ought to be at his age.”

 As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Phoebe grinned at Monty before whisking off in the direction of the entry.

 Sibella froze, terrified now, and tried to steady herself.

 “Come along. You’ll do wonderfully.” Monty prompted as he guided Sibella out of the kitchen and toward the entry after his wife.

 It was then that Sibella heard Phoebe greeting her brother, and a voice.

 “Can this be my beloved little sister? The toast of New York City and England alike!”, to which Phoebe giggled and exclaimed,

“Oh, Henry! How I’ve missed you!”

 Sibella took a moment to reflect on the voices of her employers, Monty stepping forward to grasp Henry’s hand, then pull the man into a hug as one might expect of family.

 At the very least, a family where relatives were close, which was not Sibella’s experience.

 Sure, her brother Grahame and her sister Cynthia, both older than Sibella, loved her and doted on her, she was the baby of the family after all, but they were still distant, as years of living with their family had ingrained in their brains and was not likely to move.

 They were not terribly close with their children, though Grahame and his young daughter had a relationship unlike anything Sibella would have expected.

 Grahame had confided in Sibella when his daughter was born, that he’d never subject a child of his to the kind of upbringing they’d had.

 Her niece was a bright little thing, though she only ever saw pictures or read stories through emails, and Sibella made a point to show she would still be a part of her life from across the pond.

 “And this must be the lovely Miss Hallward!” Henry’s voice snapped Sibella out of her thoughts, plastering on a bright smile that she hoped did not come across as nervous.

 “Honestly, man! You know quite well that we don’t use formal names here! That is reserved for High Hurst Estate and Aunt Eugenia. Her name is Sibella.” Monty chided, giving Henry a nudge with his elbow.

 Phoebe smiled and looked at Sibella.

 “Would you be a darling and entertain Henry for us? We forgot something at the store and need to fetch it to finish tonight’s dinner!” Phoebe locked arms with Monty, and before Sibella could even open her mouth to respond, they were gone.

 And she was alone with Phoebe’s brother, whom she had only just met.

 It was all Sibella could do not to groan about her misfortune out loud, instead smiling at Henry and offering him a seat on the sofa.

 This was going to be a _long_ night.


End file.
